


The Little Mermaid (Starring Stiles Stilinski)

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of Curses and Spells [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, But not always, Deaton is an asshole, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is a Failwolf, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Jackson is a Little Shit, M/M, Monster of the Week, Mute Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale Ships It, Pining, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles Doesn't Do Silence, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, The Pack Being Idiots, Witches, oblivious idiots, only temporarily, slight crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: The day Stiles got hit with a silencing spell, the pack celebrated. Less than twenty-four hours later, they're no longer so excited.And Derek? Derek is losing his mind.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of Curses and Spells [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990432
Comments: 85
Kudos: 2011





	1. Chapter 1

The day Stiles got hit with a spell causing him to lose his voice, everyone celebrated. 

They’d been chasing the witch through Beacon Hills for two weeks now and it was Derek and Stiles who finally stumbled across her. Of course, it was completely accidental. It seemed like things always were when the two of them were involved.

“Derek, I swear to god, if I don’t get some caffeine in me before you start talking again, I’m going to lose it,” Stiles said, storming into the coffee shop. Derek followed a few steps behind, rolling his eyes.

“Does that mean you haven’t already?”

“Dude, seriously. One of these days, I’m going to kill you. Like, literally kill you. Do you understand that? Or does your little wolfy brain not understand when a human makes a threat?”

“Usually, I disregard your threats,” Derek said, smirking. “And it’s not just because you’re human.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, stepping into line. The woman in front of them quite obviously slipped on her sunglasses and turned away, but Derek was too preoccupied with the glaring seventeen-year-old in front of him to care. Stiles had circles under his eyes from far too many hours researching, and his face was starting to turn an alarming shade of red, scent turning sour with irritation.

Derek knew that was never a good sign.

“I’m up all night doing research for your stupid pack,” Stiles said, “yet you still have the audacity to get upset when  _ I  _ ask for a cup of coffee. Like it’s a million dollars or something. Do you realize how easy it is to pick up a cup before you sneak through my window like the creeper you are? Pretty damn easy!”

“My pack?” Derek asked. Stiles made a noise of frustration.

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing, Derek! And yes! Your pack, Scott’s pack, the pack, whatever. The point is, I am overworked and underappreciated and one day, you’re are going to realize that. In fact, if I wasn’t the one to do and understand all the research, you idiots would be dead right now.”

“Are you saying we rely on your talking?” Derek asked, unimpressed. Stiles squawked, drawing the attention of a few other customers in line, but he didn’t seem to notice. The teen’s eyes were flashing now and Derek knew he should stop, but it was always amusing when Stiles got to this point. His tendency to go off on tangents was always ten times worse.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, you asshole!” Stiles said, glaring. “In fact, if I suddenly stopped talking, you all would be suffering within the week. There would be no one to take care of your furry asses, there’d be no one to keep the pack peace, and there’d be no one to research the monster of the week for you dumbasses. And you know that!”

Derek crossed his arms, fighting back a smirk. “I really don’t.”

“You really do! Bastard!”

“Um, excuse me?” They’d finally reached the front of the line and the barista looked flustered, her cheeks a crimson shade of red. “Are you ready to order now, sir?”

Derek looked down at the floor, swallowing a laugh, and Stiles’s face turned even brighter than hers. Stumbling over his words, the teen quickly rattled off his order, and Derek moved over to the waiting counter. The lady with the sunglasses was already there and Derek caught the faintest scent of electricity humming around her. He blinked in confusion and she looked at him.

“You should treat your friend better you know,” she said. “A voice that bright is a delicate thing.”

“What?” Derek asked. 

The woman hummed and reached for her coffee as it came sliding over the counter. Stiles’s drink was pushed over too, but he’d vanished off to the bathroom, and her fingers traced around the cup’s rim. Derek startled as sparks leaped off her fingers and he barely pulled back his fangs as they threatened to drop.

_ “Witch.” _

“Wolf,” she shot back, smirking. Derek looked back at the bathroom, but Stiles was still gone, and the witch was already out the door when he turned back. 

Snarling, Derek started after her, pushing through the lunch crowd. The door opened and closed with the sound of bells as he shoved outside, but the moment Derek stumbled onto the sidewalk and looked around, she was gone.

He scented the air and cursed. She was  _ gone,  _ gone _. _

Growling, he turned back into the shop. Stiles had his coffee and was glancing around. The teen’s eyes widened as he spotted him. “Dude! I thought you’d taken off and left me.”

“One could only wish,” Derek said, grabbing the coffee cup from Stiles’s hand and carrying it over to the trashcan. He ignored Stiles’s startled protests and dropped it in. “You're not drinking that. I think the witch did something to it.”

“What? But I already—”

Stiles cut off suddenly. His eyes rounded and his hands flew up to his throat, clawing in panic as Stiles opened and closed his mouth. But no noise came out. His scent turned sour with fear and Derek growled.

“Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Stiles continued to flounder like fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out. It hit Derek like a sudden punch to the gut and he cursed.  _ A voice that bright is a delicate thing.  _ Catching Stiles by the collar of his shirt, Derek half-dragged, half-carried the boy out the door. Stiles continued struggling the entire time, still clawing at his throat. The terror coming off of him was overwhelming.

“Stiles,” Derek said the moment they got out the door. “Stiles, stop panicking.”

That didn’t help. If anything, Stiles started panicking even more.

“Dammit, Stiles!” Derek pulled him around the corner and pushed the boy against the wall, shaking him slightly. “Stop  _ panicking!  _ The witch did something to your drink. I think she took your voice.”

Stiles automatically went still. His mouth opened, then closed, and the teen visibly deflated. Derek felt his own heartbeat slow slightly. 

“We need to get you to Deaton,” he said. “He’ll know how to reverse this.”

Stiles stared at him for a long moment before nodding. It was already wrong— the teenager not saying anything. Derek couldn’t tell if he was unsettled or amazed that for the first time ever, Stiles wasn’t arguing with him. Stiles  _ couldn’t  _ argue with him. Derek tilted his head.

“Or maybe we’ll just keep you like this for a few days. Nice and quiet.”

Stiles’s expression turned murderous. If looks could kill, Derek would be dead, but he couldn’t help smirking. This was a gift he’d asked for far too many times, but never expected to actually get. Did the witch realize this would be a blessing, not a punishment?

“It’s not half bad, you know,” Derek said. “Kind of peaceful, actually.”

Stiles turned away, flipping the bird over his shoulder. Derek smirked and followed, and reveled in the silence as they climbed into his Camaro. The entire car ride was silent. Derek had never experienced that with Stiles before. He was able to turn to the music he liked and not say a word because he didn’t want to.

Stiles, on the other hand, looked miserable. He wouldn’t even glance over.

Derek thought it was a win-win.

Deaton was working, but there was nobody else in the office, so he led them both to the back room. Stiles plopped down on the counter, looking sullen, and Deaton glanced between them.

“May I ask what the emergency is?”

Derek couldn’t help it. He looked at Stiles, tilting an expectant brow, and Stiles opened his mouth automatically before realizing nothing could come out. He promptly snapped it shut and scowled, turning his gaze away from Derek. 

“Mr. Stilinski?” Deaton asked, looking confused. Stiles’s expression turned miserable again and Derek decided he felt a little guilty.

“The witch was in the coffee shop we were at,” Derek said. “I think she cursed him.”

“Cursed him?” Deaton looked intrigued. 

“He can’t speak.”

Deaton turned back toward Stiles, looking at him with a startled expression, and Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek noticed how his shoulders drooped a little through. Deaton blinked and turned back around. “What did he do in order to merit this curse?”

“Other than his incessant rambling?” Derek asked. Stills promptly straightened back up and glared. “She said something about his voice being—” Derek didn’t want to say it, suddenly. “— delicate. Then she messed with his coffee cup and left.”

“She stole his voice,” Deaton said, sounding more fascinated than worried. Stiles squirmed on the counter and Derek could practically hear him wanting to make some sarcastic reference to  _ The Little Mermaid.  _ He automatically rolled his eyes.

“How do we get it back?”

“You can’t just get it back,” Deaton said. “The witch has to offer it over herself. Only the one who stole it can do that.”

“But she’s gone again,” Derek said, irritated. “And we’ve been tracking her for two weeks with no luck. How long is Stiles supposed to go without having a voice?”

Stiles looked like he would’ve said the same. His face was bright red, as if being unable to say all the words he wanted to was about to make his head explode. Derek wondered if it might. Deaton shrugged, looking unconcerned.

“As long as it takes to track the witch down.”

Stiles went still. Derek noticed his scent turn sour again and that got under his skin unlike anything else. He scowled. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“Other than wish you the best in your search? No, there’s not.”

Derek growled, and Stiles slid off the counter, looking dejected. The boy started toward the door without waiting and Derek glared at Deaton one more time before following. The druid’s voice followed them out of the room.

“If he wants his voice back properly later, sure he drinks lots of fluids!”

Derek slammed the office door closed. Stiles was already climbing into the passenger side of the Camaro and Derek dug his phone out of his pocket, texting the others to meet at the loft. The sooner they found the witch, the sooner all of this could be cleared up, and the sooner Stiles would be talking again.

Oh god, when did he have those kinds of thoughts?

Stiles was already buckled in and glaring out the window. Derek hesitated before starting the car, glancing over at him. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to be comforting, but Stiles looked like he needed something. Derek hated these kinds of situations.

“I texted the pack,” he said. “I’m going to take you to the loft and then we’re going to go after the witch.”

Stiles didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t.

“We’ll find her,” Derek said. “We’ll make her give your voice back.”

Stiles turned the full weight of his glare on Derek, this time. Derek grimaced and looked away, twisting the keys in the ignition. His skin crawled under the heat of the glare, which Stiles held for a long moment, before turning his head to look out the window again. 

They drove to the loft in silence. Derek didn’t enjoy it this time.

* * *

Jackson was positively ecstatic.

“You mean Stilinski can’t say a word? Not even one? Why has no one ever done this before?”

“Because we’re not assholes,” Scott said in a growl. Stiles looked at his friend gratefully, but Jackson didn’t look deterred. Derek could smell the amused triumph radiating off of the beta.

“This is exactly what the pack's always needed. When we track down the witch, should someone thank her before Derek rips her throat out?”

“Nobody is ripping her throat out,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “We need the witch alive to get Stiles’s voice back. Deaton said only she can return it.”

“All the more reason to make sure she dies,” Jackson smirked, sounding positively gleeful. Lydia elbowed him in the side and Allison gave Stiles a sympathetic look.

“We’ll find her, Stiles. Don't worry”

Stiles shifted on the couch, glaring down at his hands. Sitting beside him, Erica was staring at the teen like he was some kind of alien, and even Boyd looked disturbed. Isaac wasn’t even anywhere close to Stiles, choosing to stick next to Scott and watch from a distance. He looked unsettled too.

Derek tried to shake their reactions off. Of course, seeing Stiles silent for once was strange. But it wouldn’t be for long. They were going to find the witch.

They didn’t find the witch.

Derek left Stiles at the loft and split the rest of the pack up, sending them in groups across different parts of the town. He was sure if they worked fast and worked together, one of their groups would stumble across the witch eventually. But six hours later, when it was too dark to do anything else, the pack was back at the loft empty-handed. Stiles didn’t look surprised, but there was a little bit of misery in his expression.

Derek didn’t have anything encouraging to say.

“Hey, man,” Scott said, punching Stiles lightly on the arm. “Tomorrow’s only Saturday. We have the entire weekend to track her down!”

Stiles nodded, but his scent didn’t change. Jackson was still smirking.

“Go home, everyone,” Derek said, cutting through the silence. It was the first time he’d had to do something like that. “Get some sleep. We’ll meet back here in the morning and resume searching.”

His betas nodded and one by one, filtered out of the apartment. Scott offered Stiles a ride home, but Derek was surprised to see him shake his head. Scott only shrugged and hugged the teen close, saying something Derek didn’t try to catch, before turning away. Stiles lingered in the door, watching Scott disappear, then turned back toward the room. Derek arched a brow.

“Do you need a ride home?”

Stiles shrugged, gazing at the floor. Isaac muttered something about needing a snack and vanished into the kitchen, and Derek studied Stiles, watching the boy’s gaze go to the couch. His stomach flipped.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

Stiles didn’t meet his gaze. But he nodded tightly.

Derek left the room and came back a moment later with extra pillows and blankets, dropping them onto the couch. Stiles still hadn’t moved, but his scent flooded with relief when he saw them. A smile tugged at his lips and he moved over to the couch. Derek tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped again when Stiles turned the smile to him.

“I’ll be in my room,” Derek said gruffly. “If you need anything.”

Stiles nodded again and started to bury himself in the blankets. He smelled much happier now. 

Derek turned away, and could hear Isaac making obvious noises from the kitchen. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes he didn’t understand his betas.

A few minutes later, when Derek’s bedroom door was closed, he heard Isaac start toward his room. The beta said something quiet to Stiles as he passed, but Derek didn’t catch it. He didn’t try to.

But Stiles’s scent softened considerably.

Later that night, when Derek was tossing and turning in his own bed, he tried not to listen to Stiles’s heartbeat, the current loudest part of the teen. Derek told himself he wasn’t letting it lull him to sleep, and that the scent of Stiles, wasn’t comforting. He didn’t care. He didn't care at all.

Derek fell asleep repeating that to himself over and over again. It didn't work very well.


	2. Chapter 2

The entire weekend passed without them finding the witch.

Saturday was tolerable. Everyone was still optimistic and determined to find the witch. But then the entire day came and went with no luck, and the entire pack was avoiding Stiles by Sunday. Derek wished he could blame them, but he was doing the same. It was just so  _ wrong  _ to be around Stiles when the teenager wasn’t talking. Even Jackson stopped gloating about how Stiles’s forced silence was the greatest thing that ever happened to him.

Stiles didn’t come by the loft at all on Sunday. Derek tried not to be relieved by that, but he couldn’t help it, throwing himself into the search for the witch.

Sunday passed without any luck too.

On Monday, Stiles went to school with a note saying he’d temporarily lost his voice due to a cold. Derek didn’t see him the entire week and he didn’t drop by his window, despite that being a usual detour at least once a week. In return, Stiles didn’t show up at the loft or text. It was like he’d vanished off the face of the earth.

Derek wasn’t bothered by this. He wasn’t. It was just strange, that’s all.

He was bothered by this.

Because Derek was conflicted, dammit. He couldn’t be in the same room as the teen, yet that was the only thing he wanted to do. The entire week passed with no sightings of the witch and while the rest of the pack kept coming by the loft, Stiles didn’t.

Not until Friday, at least. That afternoon, he came in so quietly for the pack meeting, Derek nearly had a heart attack when he turned around to see Stiles sitting on the couch. The teen was early and stared silently at the floor, not even reacting when Derek stiffened in surprise

“Stiles,” Derek said, if only to break the silence. Stiles looked at him, amber eyes hollow, and didn’t say a word. It was painful to watch.

“I think I’ve stepped into another dimension,” Peter said, slinking down the staircase. He eyed Stiles from the bottom step and stepped forward to circle the boy, tilting his head. “Is Stiles not speaking, or have I lost my hearing? Nephew, what did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Derek said shortly. “The witch we’re after took away his voice. Where have you been all week?”

“Avoiding your pack,” Peter said simply. He sat across from Stiles and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he studied him. Stiles gazed back silently, though his lips were pulled up in a slight grimace. Peter drew back, looking disturbed. “I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what?”

“The  _ silence.” _

Stiles clenched his jaw and looked away. Derek swallowed. “We’re going to fix it.”

“He’s been like this for the whole week?”

“We’re doing everything we can.”

“It’s like he’s possessed,” Peter said, narrowing his eyes. He leaned forward again and his eyes turned blue, searching Stiles’s face. “Are you sure he’s not possessed?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. But his scent stank of misery.

“Stop it, Peter,” Derek said, coming all the way into the room. “You’re not helping.”

“Clearly, none of your pack is either. A witch did this?”

“When we ran into her last week getting coffee,” Derek said darkly. “She did something to his drink.”

“And you haven’t made her change him back because…”

“Because we can’t find her,” Derek gritted out. Peter’s eyes raised in amusement and he snorted, shaking his head.

“Amateurs.” 

“You could do better?”

“Oh, dear nephew, I could do so much better.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sat in the chair next to the couch where Stiles sat, though a part of him wanted to move closer. The teen had brought a pen and notebook with him, but they laid abandoned on the coffee table. A stack of pizza boxes sat next to them, waiting for the rest of the pack to show up.

Derek didn’t remember the last time silence made him uncomfortable. But this did. He clenched his jaw, trying not to make his discomfort too obvious, but Peter clearly noticed. Derek’s uncle chuckled and Stiles glanced up, following Peter’s gaze to search Derek’s face. Something in the teen’s eyes cracked and he looked away.

Derek shot his uncle a dark look. Peter grinned sharply.

The silence continued to reign. Peter made his lack of concern obvious, grabbing a magazine, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and humming softly to himself. Derek sat until he couldn’t handle it anymore, shoving himself up and stalking into the kitchen.

Stiles curled up even smaller on the couch.

Then finally,  _ finally,  _ the rest of the betas showed up, all talking loudly among each other. Derek forced himself out of the kitchen and watched Stiles perk up on the couch when the betas approached, only to deflate as the entire pack quieted. They eyed Stiles cautiously and offered careful, quiet smiles. Derek clenched his jaw.

“Well,” Peter said, standing. “Seeing as this is the entire pack I’m trying to avoid, I’ll see myself out.”

A series of growls followed his statement. Derek rolled his eyes.

They hadn’t had a pack meeting since Stiles lost his voice. But as it first started, everything was like normal. The betas dug into the pizza and joked amongst each other, though Derek noticed none of them actually engaged with Stiles. Sensing the need to change topics, Derek laid the events of the week out. They did this every week and it came easily to him.

Until the summary of the week came to an end, that is. Derek looked toward Stiles— it’d be the moment he updated them on everything he researched— and realized his mistake too late. All the other pack members looked at Stiles too and the teenager froze under the scrutiny, a slice of pizza hanging half out of his mouth.

His eyes snapped over each of them and then landed on Derek with a look of utter rage and betrayal. Stiles shoved himself up, dropping the rest of his pizza onto his plate, and Derek flinched.

“Stiles—”

The teen glared, grabbing his notebook and scribbling something out. Then he tossed it onto the table and gathered up his jacket, stalking out of the loft. In bold on the piece of paper were the giant words  _ ‘fuck you’.  _ Derek winced.

“Nice one,” Jackson snorted. Derek snarled at him, flashing his red eyes. Because he wasn’t the only one at fault here, dammit.

“Tell me,” Derek said. “Before you go throwing the blame around. Have any of you actually bothered to interact or hang out with Stiles at all this week?”

The pack stiffened. But no one answered.

“I thought so,” Derek said, his irritation mounting. “And have any of you attempted to communicate with him even though he can’t communicate back? In something beyond texting?”

Once more, the silence was his answer. Derek growled.

“Do any of you realize that Stiles shouldn’t be the one to initiate conversations all the time? Have any of you wolves smelled the change to his scent lately?”

“I have,” Scott said, looking crushed. “It’s all wrong. Sour.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I thought he’d taken to eating more lemons,” Erica shrugged. Derek shot her a dark look and Isaac shifted.

“It’s because he’s upset, isn’t it?”

“It’s because he’s miserable,” Boyd said. “That much is obvious.”

“Yet Stiles got here a half-hour early, quiet and lonely, and you all come in later like a pack. Like a pack he’s not a part of,” Derek said. He was snarling now, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t believe they’d been so stupid. He couldn’t believe  _ he’d  _ been so stupid.

“It’s not like we’re enjoying it,” Jackson said lowly. “The silence.”

“It’s wrong,” Allison said. “Strange.”

“It makes it hard to be around him,” Erica added. “I feel like my skin’s on fire or there’s something wrong with my hearing.”

One week ago, Stiles had insisted the pack would be affected by his silence. Derek had been amused—  _ amused— _ by that idea. He’d never felt like such an idiot than he did now, looking around at the disheartened expressions of his pack. How could the lack of one loud, hyperactive, sarcastic person do that to them?

_ A voice that bright is a delicate thing,  _ the witch had said. Derek felt his stomach drop.

“And while you’re all uncomfortable in his silence,” Derek asked lowly. “How do you think Stiles is feeling?”

He could feel the change in the air. One by one, his pack members looked at each other and then down at the floor, not answering. But Derek could smell their realizations, their guilt. It hit him as hard as his own. Derek sighed.

“Pack meeting’s over. Go home and get some sleep, we’re finding that witch this weekend.”

One by one, they complied. Isaac went straight to his room and this time, it was Scott who lingered by the door, looking at Derek as he approached. The teenager’s face was a mess of guilt and remorse. Derek raised a brow.

“Scott?”

“What happens if we don’t find the witch?” Scott asked. “If she’s already left town or something happened?”

Derek didn’t want to think about that. He couldn’t. “We’ll find her.”

Scott looked like a kicked puppy. He still didn’t make a move to leave, staring at his feet for a long moment, and Derek crossed his arms, waiting. Scott took his time looking up.

“Have you seen Stiles? Since last weekend?”

“No,” Derek said gruffly.

“You should,” Scott said, shuffling. “See him, I mean. You should go see him.”

Derek arched a brow. Scott turned red.

“I’m just saying.”

“I’ll think about it,” Derek said, unwilling to admit that he already had. 

Scott nodded, shuffling again, before he hurried from the loft. Derek stood for a long moment in the silence. He breathed out, looking back at the stack of empty boxes, and wandered over to pick up Stiles’s notebook. There were grease stains on the edges. The pen was one Stiles had stolen from Derek weeks ago.

Derek rubbed a hand over his face. He knew he had to see Stiles and he knew it couldn’t wait until tomorrow; but he was hesitant. The two words on the paper stood out like they’d actually been said out loud.

Derek always claimed to hate Stiles’s constant talking. There were times he’d avidly wished for a curse just like this, so Stiles would shut up for once. Especially back when they’d first met. But a lot had changed since then. 

And Derek had never hated the silence more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek can't stand the silence, Stiles is too good at hiding how he really feels, and fluffy feels ensue.

Every time Derek came in through the window, Stiles some sort of sarcastic comment prepared. It’d gotten to the point that Derek went in expecting one and did his best to cover up any hints of amusement when Stiles actually managed to be clever.

Stiles’s room was empty when Derek ducked in this time. But he heard the shower running and froze, standing shock still in the middle room as if he’d already been caught creeping. Which was ridiculous. Derek wasn’t doing anything wrong and he definitely wasn’t expecting Stiles to be in the shower—

The shower suddenly turned off.

Derek blinked. He heard the sounds of movement and made an abortive movement toward the window, when the bathroom door opened. Stiles stepped out, steam rushing into the bedroom, and Derek knew he was seen the moment there was a loud crash. Derek winced, half-way out the window, and turned around to see Stiles rammed up against the door. 

Derek wondered if his ears were as red as they felt. He swallowed and straightened his shoulders, trying not the look like he’d been trying to escape being seen.

“Stiles.”

Stiles’s eyes went comically round. Derek could practically hear him shouting  _ ‘Stiles, Stiles? What the hell, Sourwolf? You walk in on me half-naked and the first thing that comes to mind is ‘Stiles?’’  _ Derek winced, turning away. 

“Sorry.”

Derek stood statue-still as he heard Stiles rush back and forth, the sound of his dresser opening and closing a little too loud to be accidental. Derek had never been so glad the Sheriff was still on shift. Otherwise, Derek would’ve been halfway back to the loft by now.

Another few minutes passed. The room smelled like the rest of the pack, Derek realized. And not stale or faint like it used to be, but all fresh scents. After another minute, silence fell over the bedroom and Derek turned cautiously around to see Stiles standing with his arms crossed.

“The pack came by?” Derek asked. Stiles hesitated before nodding. Derek swallowed. “That’s good.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, moving over to grab a whiteboard and marker off his desk. Derek shifted from foot to foot as Stiles scribbled something on it, then flashed the board up.

_ That was doing I assume? _

“I didn’t do anything,” Derek defended. Stiles raised a brow and wrote something else.

_ You’re a liar and an asshole. _

“I’m glad to see your vocabulary has remained intact during this traumatic time,” Derek said dryly. Stiles glared and started writing something else, and Derek moved over to sit on the edge of his bed.

_ Why are you here? _

“I didn’t come by all week,” Derek said, avoiding Stiles’s gaze. “But I should have.”

Stiles erased the other sentences on the board and wrote something else. Derek flinched as he held it up. The teen didn’t even say anything and Derek could still hear his lie.

_ I don’t care. _

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Derek said. “About all of this.”

_ Why do you care? _

Derek narrowed his eyes. “Why shouldn’t I?”

_ Cause you’re an asshole. _

“I’m not an asshole,” Derek said hotly. “I came by because I care. Because I’m your Alpha, Stiles, and that’s my job. I’m supposed to take care of my pack.”

_ I didn’t ask you to. _

“You didn’t need to,” Derek gritted out. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and dropped the whiteboard again, sitting back and crossing his arms. His hair was still damp and he wore the ‘Stud Muffin’ t-shirt that Derek always rolled his eyes at. Silence fell over the room again. It made Derek want to claw his skin off. He growled, shoving himself up.

“It’s too quiet, Stiles, don’t you know that? Don’t you realize how quiet it is? I’m not the one supposed to do the talking, dammit! That’s not my  _ job _ .”

Stiles glared angrily at him. Derek sunk back onto the bed and stared at the floor.

“I just— dammit, Stiles, I want to hear you say something right now. I don’t even care what it is. The silence— the silence isn’t right. Not around you.”

Derek heard the sound of the marker against the whiteboard again. When he looked back up, Stiles was writing something else down, face screwed up in concentration. His scent reeked of anger, frustration, and sadness, and all those scents hit Derek hard. Stiles finished the message, looked at it, then scowled in irritation, rubbing his sleeve over the whole thing. He wrote a new message and scowled at that one too, writing one more. Angry tears filled his eyes.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “You don’t have to—”

The teen suddenly threw down the marker and flashed the whiteboard up. Derek’s stomach flipped.

_ Do you think I like this? _

Stiles looked at him with misery in his eyes. There was so much behind the words; the hurt, the frustration, the defeat. Stiles built himself up on his words and carried himself on the power they carried. Just like how Derek felt stronger when he didn’t have to speak, Stiles felt stronger when he could. But that’d been taken away. Derek had scoffed at the idea and the witch had taken it away.

Stiles’s face crumpled. 

The teen dropped the whiteboard onto his desk and turned away, scrubbing at his face. Derek stood shock-still for a moment before coming back to his senses, taking a cautious step forward. Stiles glanced at him, then looked sharply away, effectively hiding his face. Derek reached up and tilted his chin back forward. 

“Stiles.”

_ Stop it,  _ Stiles mouthed. Derek swallowed hard.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Stiles wouldn’t look at him. Derek glanced down at the abandoned whiteboard and picked it up, reaching down to grab the marker off the floor. Stiles looked confused as Derek uncapped it. Quickly, efficiently, Derek wrote out his own sentence.

_ I can still hear you. _

Stiles’s scent turned muddled. Derek took one of the teen’s hands, turning it over, and pressed two fingers against Stiles’s pulse. He closed his eyes, listening to the rabbiting heartbeat beneath his touch, and smiled slightly. Stiles was still staring when Derek opened his eyes again. Once more, he reached for the whiteboard.

_ Stiles, I can always hear you. _

Stiles’s heart stuttered. Derek swallowed and wrote out a new message.

_ Is that okay? _

Stiles nodded once. Derek felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over his head and he set the whiteboard back on the desk, taking Stiles’s hand again. He touched his fingers the teen’s pulse once more and Stiles reached out, touching his fingers against Derek’s. They sat there in silence for a long moment, listening to the not-so-silent silence.

“Do you want me to leave?” Derek asked again, after what felt like hours later. Stiles glanced, lips forming one word.

_ Stay. _

Derek’s heart stuttered. Fingers pressed against his pulse, Stiles smiled.

* * *

Derek woke up pressed up against a strangely warm presence. Blinking a few times, he shifted slightly, and narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the bundle curled in his arms. Brown hair tickled his nose and he caught sight of a pale mole dotted neck. It looked startlingly familiar.

Derek blinked again. The bundle shifted with a sigh and a familiar scent reached his nose. Derek froze.

_ Stiles. _

Suddenly, the events of the last night came flying back. From the whiteboard, to the silent conversations, to the movies Stiles had turned on so he could fall asleep to something other than his own silence. Derek hadn’t meant to fallen asleep too. He’d planned on leaving the moment Stiles fell asleep.

But here he was. Here  _ they  _ were. And Derek could hear the Sheriff moving around downstairs.

Stiles suddenly stiffened against him. Derek knew the moment he woke up, as Stiles’s heartbeat picked up in speed and he went totally still. Derek was tempted to close his eyes and pretend to continue sleeping, but he doubted Stiles would be fooled. Like he didn’t realize Derek was awake already.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “Are you… okay?”

Stiles nodded slightly. 

“Do you need me to move?”

Stiles tilted his head up, eyes still bleary with sleep. His hair was mussed up and a fond smile tugged at his lips. He tilted his head and studied Derek, quiet as ever. But Derek could hear his heartbeat and feel the warmth of his gaze, and maybe at this moment, he didn’t need words. Stiles snorted and buried his head in the crook of Derek’s neck, and Derek sighed.

“We can’t stay like this forever, you know.”

Stiles huffed.

“Your dad is downstairs.”

That did the job. Stiles stiffened and his head shot up, so fast it nearly caught Derek underneath the chin. Derek grunted and pulled back, and Stiles tried to claw his way into a sitting position on the bed, only to go tumbling to the floor instead. He hit with a thump and Derek heard the sound of the Sheriff going still downstairs.

They both froze. Silence reigned for a long moment then Derek heard the Sheriff grunt, moving around the kitchen again. He sighed and turned his face into Stiles’s pillow.

“He’s still distracted. Cooking breakfast.”

Stiles perked up. Derek watched his nostrils flare through half-slitted eyes and snorted.

“Eggs and turkey bacon.”

Stiles looked silently pleased. Derek watched him stand and wander around the room, scrounging around through his drawers to pull out fresh clothes. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Derek rolled to his other side.

He listened to Stiles’s heartbeats with closed eyes as the boy changed. It was driving him crazy, expecting Stiles to crack a joke or make a sarcastic comment at any moment, only to be rewarded with silence. The teen stood by the door when he finished changing and Derek glanced back. Stiles fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

“I’ll go out the window,” Derek said. “Once your dad is distracted.”

Stiles nodded.

“Is he doing alright? With everything?”

The boy shrugged. Derek swung his feet over the edge of the bed, grimacing. At some point, he’d stripped off his shirt, Stiles’s room getting way too hot during the night. He had no idea where it was now and Stiles pointedly looked anywhere else. 

“We’re going to find her this weekend,” Derek said. “The witch.”

Stiles nodded silently. Derek stood and crossed the room, and Stiles’s heartbeat picked up. Derek hesitated then, swallowing hard, and Stiles carefully reached out, catching one of his hands. The teen traced soft, gentle fingers over his pulse point, just like the night before. Derek felt the tension drain from his body and he sighed. 

Stiles’s fingers moved up his arm, lingering on the nape of his neck, then touched underneath Derek’s chin, against another point. Stiles closed his eyes and his fingers ghosted over Derek’s face, lingering faintly on his lips and over his eyebrows, before cupping his face. The teen’s lips moved softly, but Derek couldn’t make out his words. After a moment, Stiles visibly relaxed.

Stiles opened his eyes and grinned nervously, amber eyes brighter than they’d been in days. Derek stared at him for a long moment, then leaned forward, touching his lips against Stiles’s forehead. The teen melted against him.

“We’re going to find the witch and get your voice back,” Derek murmured against his skin. “So the next time we’re here, I can say I love you without sounding like a coward.”

Stiles startled, looking at him in surprise. Derek swallowed, turning his head so his lips were inches away from the boy’s ear, and his next words came out in a cautious whisper.

_ “Is that okay?” _

Stiles shivered. Derek pulled back to see he was grinning widely, looking both indignant, exasperated, and amazed. Stiles nodded, mouthing one word.

_ Yes. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add one more chapter to this fic, so we'll have four, not three! I hope you're all enjoying and hope to see you all in the last one!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek made a promise, Peter isn't always a bad guy, and Stiles remembers what it's like to speak

Derek was pissed and panicking.

He had been determined, so determined, to find that damn witch. But either she wasn’t in Beacon Hills anymore, or she was just as determined not to be found, because they still hadn’t picked up anything. Derek knew the entire pack could sense his irritation as they gathered outside of the loft, looking nervous as he stewed. Except for Scott. Scott looked crushed.

“What are we supposed to tell Stiles?”

“We’re not telling Stiles anything,” Derek growled. “Because we’re going to find her.”

“Derek,” Allison said. “What if we—”

“No,” Derek said, cutting her off. “The witch is here and she’s going to give Stiles his voice back. I don’t care if we have to drag her here and force her to do it.”

“And that’s great and all,” Jackson said. “But a little hard to do if she’s vanished off the face of the earth.” 

Derek growled and flashed his eyes. The beta drew back with a glare, snapping his mouth shut. Derek shook his head, feeling like he was losing his mind. He’d promise Stiles. He’d promised. “She can’t just take his voice. Stiles didn’t do anything wrong. She can’t do that to him.”

“Derek,” Lydia said, stepping forward. She caught his arm, turning him away, and Derek realized the words were spilling out in front of his pack. Clenching his jaw, he let himself be turned. Lydia searched his face. “What’s happening here?”

“Nothing,” Derek growled. She raised an unimpressed brow.

“Derek, you will tell me.”

“I promised him,” Derek said angrily. “I promised Stiles I’d get his voice back.”

Lydia pursed her lips. “Well, that was stupid.”

Derek snarled and she rolled her eyes, arching a carefully manicured brow.

“But you did it because you care, right?”

“Shut up,” Derek muttered, looking away. He knew his betas were listening in, whether or not they were trying to pretend otherwise. Erica and Jackson weren’t even attempting to be discreet. “That’s not the point. I need to find her.”

“You need to accept the fact that she might be gone.”

“No,” Derek said. “Not, she’s not. This is a lesson of some kind and I need to track her down to undo it. I get it now. Stiles— we need Stiles. We need Stiles and his stupid voice and his sarcastic remarks—”

The loft door suddenly opened. Peter stood in the entrance, looking unimpressed, and rolled his eyes as the entire pack growled. He shook his head and turned away.

“Literal children, I swear. Do any of you want to come in or should I continue keeping our guest company alone?”

“Guest?”

“Yes, guest,” Peter said, sounding exasperated. “I did tell you I could track down the witch better than any of your teenage betas, nephew, didn’t I?”

Derek clenched his jaw, starting into the apartment as Scott slid out his phone, dialing Stiles’s number. Because there, sitting in the middle of the room, was the witch. She wasn’t wearing her sunglasses this time and wore a bright red scarf, hair pulled up in a bun. She looked bored as Derek went rigid.

“Hello again, wolf.”

Derek growled lowly. The witch rolled her eyes.

“This again?”

“You trespassed on our territory,” Derek gritted out. “And hurt one of my pack. I should rip your throat out right here.”

“So violent,” the witch tutted. She glanced over at Peter. “Your right, he is an angry one.”

“I told you,” Peter said lazily. Derek directed his glare toward his uncle and Peter rolled his eyes, slouching back in his seat. “Derek, don’t give me that look, I did a good thing here. Meet Evelyn. She’s going to give Stiles his voice back.”

“You are?” Scott asked, stepping forward. Evelyn eyed the boy and nodded.

“Of course. I didn’t plan on keeping it forever.”

“You shouldn’t have taken it in the first place,” Derek snarled. “How did Peter find you?”

“That’s one secret I’d like to keep,” Peter interrupted. “As for getting her here, well. I can be quite charming when I feel like it, you know.”

Evelyn scoffed, but Derek noticed her scent change. He grunted in disgust.

“Stiles is on his way,” Scott said. Evelyn smiled.

“Oh, lovely. His voice is quite different from others I’ve borrowed before, you know. So bright and delicate.”

“Why did you take it?” Lydia asked. The witch tilted a brow.

“Isn’t it obvious? I know your Alpha got it all figured out eventually,” Evelyn said, giving Derek a distasteful glance. “There are a lot of things I can tolerate, but a voice like that receiving such discourteous treatment? Oh no, my dears. Oh no.”

The pack went uncharacteristically silent. Jackson’s lips pulled back in a snarl as he spoke. “Do you realize how much it hurt him?”

“The boy? Quite a bit, I imagine, but that’s the price to pay sometimes. I’m sure the pain was shared throughout the entire pack.”

Derek growled and moved before he could stop himself, yanking Evelyn off the couch and slamming her against the wall. His claws pricked at her skin and she clucked his tongue, regarding his half-shifted face in unconcerned amusement. 

“Oh, come now, little Alpha. If you kill me, your boy’s voice will never be heard again.”

“The second you give it back,” Derek snarled, tightening his grip. “You’re going to leave Beacon Hills and never return. Is that understood?”

“I’ve already packed my bags,” Evelyn said lightly. Derek growled and let go.

Stiles came stumbling through the door right at that moment. The second he saw the witch though, he froze and stared, his scent turning soft with relief. Derek stepped back as he approached, and Evelyn tilted her head. 

“So this is who the delicate voice belongs to. Fitting.”

Stiles looked at her shakily, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Derek was sorely tempted to slam Evelyn against the wall again to both hurry her up and erase the vulnerable expression from Stiles’s face, but he forced himself to stand still. The last thing he wanted to do was make things worse.

“I am sorry, dear boy,” Evelyn said. “This lesson was never meant for you.”

Stiles’s face hardened. Evelyn sighed.

The witch slipped a vital from her pocket and murmured something soft, rubbing her thumb over the rim. Sparks danced off her fingers and the liquid inside turned red. Evelyn folded it into Stiles’s hands.

“I’ll take my leave now,” Evelyn said. “Drink that and all your words will return to you, dear boy.”

Derek watched her go, the pack growling as she passed. Evelyn looked unbothered, despite being surrounded by a bunch of angry werewolves. The loft door slid shut behind her and everyone turned to look at Stiles.

Stiles swallowed, uncapping the vital. He glanced around at the pack— like he was hesitant or seeking approval— before tipping it back to his lips. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

They all watched in apprehensive silence. Stiles pulled the empty vital from his lips with a grimace and shudder. For a moment, nothing happened. He licked his lips and glanced around, then carefully, hesitantly, muttered; “Should I start singing, or...?”

Groans echoed through the room. Except for Scott, at least, who threw himself forward and embraced the boy, squeezing so tight Stiles squeaked in pain. Scott drew back looking bashful. “Sorry.”

“Scotty, never apologize for giving a hug that fantastic,” Stiles said, grinning. Lydia stepped forward next and hugged him too, followed by Allison and then the other betas, one by one. Except for Jackson, at least, who wrinkled his nose and patted Stiles on the shoulder.

“I’m going to regret not enjoying the silence for longer, Stilinski. I know it.”

“I’ll make sure you do, asshole,” Stiles said, smirking. Jackson rolled his eyes and stepped back, scowling when Lydia said something smug.

Stiles’s eyes shifted over to where Derek stood. 

The teen swallowed, his scent turning nervous, and the entire pack groaned again, all except Erica having the decency to look uncomfortable. Lydia rolled her eyes.

“That’s our cue to leave. I’m sure everyone else has better places to be anyway.”

Stiles blushed as they all filed out. Scott took Isaac's arm and dragged him out too, and even Peter stood, rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to be here for this.”

“Then get out,” Derek deadpanned. 

“Such gratitude, nephew. Next time, I won’t help at all.”

Derek bit his tongue. Peter smirked.

“You’re quite welcome. It was disturbing to see Stiles so quiet anyway. Someone would have lost their mind eventually. Probably you, Derek.”

Stiles rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Derek growled threateningly and Peter raised his hands, turning out of the loft. Only when it slid shut did Derek relax.

Stiles shifted from foot to foot. “So—”

“Stiles.”

“Really dude?” Stiles looked at him, shaking his head in fond exasperation. “Stiles,  _ Stiles?  _ I get my voice back after a week of silence and the first thing you say to me is Stiles?”

“Shut up,” Derek muttered, pressing him back against the opposite wall. Stiles made a noise of amusement and turned his nose up with a smile.

“Do you really want me to?”

“No,” Derek admitted. “Not ever again.”

“Oh my god, Sourwolf, you are going to regret that statement one day.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Derek said, brushing his lips over Stiles’s own. Stiles shivered and made a noise of contentment deep in the back of his throat, pressing back for more.

“Derek—”

“Is this okay?”

“Derek, you idiot, this is more than okay,” Stiles muttered, pressing his lips more firmly against Derek’s. He tasted like cinnamon and smelled like fresh rain, and Derek closed his eyes, wrapping his hand around the back of Stiles’s head to pull him closer. Stiles keened in agreement and the sound sent shivers down Derek’s spine.

“I want you to talk to me,” Derek said, the words gasped between kisses. “All the time, Stiles. I swear to god, if you ever shut up again—”

“Derek,” Stiles gasped, kissing him until Derek was breathless. “Right now, you need to shut up.”

“But I made a promise,” Derek whispered. Stiles drew back an inch, eyes dazed and lips puffy, and squinted at him in confusion. Derek leaned forward to nip up Stiles’s neck and then traced his lips around the shell of his ear, leaning in close. “I love you.”

“Oh, you bastard!”

Derek smirked and Stiles shoved him back, looking indignant. But he looked fond too. Amber eyes danced and Stiles reached up, tracing his thumb over Derek’s lips and eyebrows. Derek caught his hand before he could draw back, cupping it against his face. 

“The first time you did that, what did you say?”

Stiles froze, his face turning red. He dropped his gaze and Derek narrowed his eyes, studying the teenager’s face.

“Stiles?”

“I was soothing your eyebrows,” Stiles said, so low it was almost a whisper. “They looked upset.”

“You were soothing my eyebrows?”

“It wasn’t like you could hear it,” Stiles muttered, scrunching up his nose. Derek shook his head, unable to hold back a bark of laughter. Stiles looked up in surprise, then his expression melted and he dropped his head against Derek’s shoulder.

“You know I do too, Sourwolf. Love you, that is.”

Derek stilled. Stiles peeked up. 

“Is that okay?”

Derek swallowed and pulled Stiles’s hands back up to his face, pressing a quick kiss into his open palm. Closing his eyes, he nodded, and touched his lips against Stiles’s fingers so the boy could feel his silent answer.

_ Yes. _

**Author's Note:**

> I always imagined Mute!Stiles would be the pack's dream and then their worst nightmare. So I decided to one-shot it with a few chapters. I hope you guys enjoyed! Also, come hang with me on Tumblr or something, cause you're all amazing
> 
> [ https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com)


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